


Ready in the Night

by Winoniel



Category: The Administration - Manna Francis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21841855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winoniel/pseuds/Winoniel
Summary: Dillian's in peril!  Who will save her?  Warrick, and of course, Toreth.  Cher, hope you like this--Happy Yuletide!
Relationships: Val Toreth/Keir Warrick
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Ready in the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cher/gifts).



_“We sleep safe in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm.” George Orwell_

“Warrick, is Dilly there?” Cele’s voice, normally so buoyant, was panicked.

Toreth, who had been kneading Warrick’s rounded buttocks, stilled. This sounded serious, and he knew that Warrick would be distracted. Toreth rolled to lie beside Warrick on the bed, mirroring his position flat on his stomach as he listened to the voices, Cele’s over the flat’s system and Warrick’s rumbling next to him.

From the terse conversation it appeared that Dillian hadn’t been seen since Friday evening. She had gone out for drinks after work with some colleagues from her new job, but called it an early evening, saying she wanted to take care of some estimates in the office in the morning. She had been slated to meet Cele for lunch and shopping on Saturday afternoon, but when she hadn’t called, Cele just assumed that she’d gotten caught up with work. Apparently, Dillian could become as absorbed in the details of some deep-sea extraction as Warrick could with his coding.

As Warrick tried to calm Cele (another first, as she was usually quite unruffled), Toreth rolled over onto his back, thinking. Dillian had been offered a partnership as a deep-sea installation consultant with Faroe Consultancies over five months ago, and seemed as happy as she could be with an Earth assignment. As she’d said, though she loved off-world assignments, the revolt and its aftermath, Kate’s arrest, and Tarin’s near-death accident had made her want to stay close to family and friends. Perhaps—

“Wait, hold on, Cele,” Warrick said quickly, tapping a control. “I have another call, it might be Dilly… Yes?” 

“Keir Warrick?”

“Yes?” Keir said again, impatiently.

“Mr. Warrick, this is Carl Lipore, the head of securities at Faroe Consultancies. I am afraid that your sister has been kidnapped.”  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
Dillian woke up, sore and cold. She tried to lift her head, but the resulting sensation sliced through her brain so sharply that for a moment she saw nothing but white and then heard shrieking that went on and on and on until she realized it was her own voice and abruptly shut her mouth. She sat panting, her head hanging, until the pain receded, leaving only a dull throbbing. 

Keeping her head down, but opening her eyes slightly, she saw absolutely nothing. She was in pitch dark. Her hands wouldn’t move and while they were numb—she couldn’t feel her fingers at all—she sensed they were bound. Breathing through her open mouth, she decided to try lifting her head again, if for no other reason than to learn if she could hear something other than her own breathing. Straightening her shoulders, she raised her head slowly, but the pain sheared through her skull again and she passed out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
Judith Kishawi and Oliver Smythe were engineers, but two totally dissimilar people could not be imagined. At present that dissimilarity was apparent as Smythe paced the small office incessantly, while Kishawi sat a desk, slowly drawing on an oxygen inhaler. Toreth ignored them, instead trying to follow the hurried consultation between Lipore and Emma Queen, SimTech’s head of security. 

Warrick came over with a hand screen. They could see Dillian tied to a chair, naked except for a blanket draped over her, shivering with her head down. At a barked command from behind the camera, she looked up. While drawn in fear and some pain, she seemed intact, something that Toreth knew wouldn’t last long if negotiations went pear-shaped. 

A voice (computer manipulated, of course) emerged from the screen, “You will prepare a ransom of one million euros and include with the money the schematics of the Universal Marine Extraction Services project that Dillian Avens is currently developing. There is no need to worry that you are jeopardizing that venture.” Here, the voice, even with the manipulation, oozed sarcasm, “Our client simply wants the blueprints to understand the design, nothing else. This is to be readied and we will inform you in 72 hours where the exchange is to take place.”

Smythe joined them. “That came in just an hour and half ago.”

Toreth asked, “What has your security team discovered?”

Smythe flushed. “We don’t have much in the way of investigative security. We’re a small corporation and our insurers never felt the need for a threat assessment. Our security consists of sentries for the office and the projects that we directly manage, as opposed to those for which we simply provide consultation and structural designs. We don’t normally have the high-profile assignments that require more complex security strategies.”

Warrick looked to Toreth, who glared back, with a sinking feeling. Just like Dillian to get herself caught up with corporation shenanigans and drag him and Warrick in, as well. “So, what’s changed?” he asked.

Kishawi spoke up from her desk. Her face was serene, though her voice shook slightly. “With the addition of Dillian to our consultation staff, we have attracted a number of clients who are impressed with her off-world experience and reputation. Getting her was a coup, and she has brought in several important projects. We are starting to build a major presence in the field of variable-gravity, sealed environments.”

Warrick leaned in. “Since your team has little experience in this, may I offer the services of SimTech security?”

“Why?” Lipore walking over to the group, followed by Queen, sounded surprisingly suspicious for someone who’d called Warrick in the first place.

Queen answered. “While our recent security threat assessment had initially put Ms. Avens at low risk, with her change in employment and her permanent relocation to Earth, that will change. In the meantime, as a family member of a SimTech director, we need to ensure her safe return. 

She turned to Smythe and Kishawi. “We assume that you will follow the corporate accords, and not pay the ransom?”

Smythe snorted. “Like we have the euros to spare? And even if we did, how long do you think we’d keep our clients when it got out that we could be blackmailed into giving out the specs of their projects? Our only hope would have been to call in Justice to see if they could track down the sabs before this got any more dangerous.” And they all knew how well that would have gone.

After a swift, but efficient discussion, it was decided that operations would be centered in their current location. Warrick would investigate the activities of Faroe’s competitors, Queen would coordinate the examination of the video for clues, Toreth would recreate Dillian’s last few hours at large before her kidnapping, and the ill-equipped Faroe guards would just provide coffee and any required legwork.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
Dillian woke up again. The blanket that had been thrown over her shoulders had slipped to her lap. Her legs had been untied from the chair, though her hands were still bound. She assumed the drugs she must have been given after the sab had recorded her were supposed to be her main means of confinement. She shuffled over to the corner and relieved herself, trying to balance enough to not fall in her own urine as she’d done the first time she’d tried.

At least, he gave her frequent sips of water and a couple of bites of a nutrient bar. Between that and the drugs, she was able to maintain enough strength to sit in her chair but not enough to even think of an escape plan. The positive side effect of the drugs was that her splitting headache was gone.

Her movement must have alerted her captor, though, as he entered soon after, wrinkling his nose at the smell. Well tough, she thought, if you don’t like it, give me a better room. He silently held a gun in his hand while he held out the other, which had a plastic cup of water. She sipped the water, and he left.

She’d tried engaging him in talk, but the first time she said anything, he’d backhanded her, several times, hard and dispassionately. The next time she’d tried, he’d only had to life his arm and she shut her mouth. Now, they conducted their business in silence. He hadn’t said a word since the ransom demand. 

Faroe didn’t have that kind of money, and they certainly wouldn’t give a sab the plans for one of their projects. They could only call in Justice to try to track her down before she was killed. Dillian only hoped that Warrick and Toreth were called. And wasn’t that the kicker? She knew that her best chance lay with a professional torturer and her technology-fixated brother. A small, almost unbelieving smile on her face, she managed to pull the blanket over herself with her bound hands and drifted back to sleep.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
Toreth had talked with several Faroe employees. That Friday evening had initially been normal, with several of the office staff and engineers going to a local bar for drinks, decompressing after a long week. There _had_ been one disgruntled colleague, a Winifred Crick, who’d initially raised some red flags. She seemed a rather strange combination of envy and admiration, opining, “Wouldn’t be surprised if she were behind her own kidnapping, to let the firm realize how important she is to its continued health. Without her, they would not have garnered the impressive contracts they’ve gotten in the past few months. It was her imagination and innovative techniques that put a rather commonplace little mining company on the deep marine map.” She was quickly dismissed as a suspect, though, as it seemed the admiration outweighed the envy and she appeared to have no other ties to any corporate sabs.

As the operation moved closer to the 72-hour deadline, Toreth grew apprehensive. Quite frankly, Dillian, while impressive to look at and providing ample amounts of wank material, was of less concern to him than almost perfect strangers. However, she was important to Warrick, and he would become incredibly tiresome if she were to be injured. 

When Smythe asked if a rival might have had her kidnapped, Toreth gave it some thought. “I would guess this is more the first step of a takeover than someone just wanting to hurt your company. It feels like someone who wants to drive down the value of your company, the easier to perhaps sweep in and purchase it cheaply. Then Dillian would be released, and they will have your contracts, your company, _and_ your hot-shot consultant.”

Lipore nodded and added, “You’d better pray that a rival doesn’t have her, as they have no incentive to keep her alive.”

Smythe paled and walked back over to Kishawi’s desk.

It wasn’t long before Warrick connected the dots. Underwater Contractors was a corporation that had long had eyes on the smaller company, offering joint endeavors and ‘start-up’ cash for more expensive projects. It’s director, Terrance Hunt, had seemingly taken the rebuffs well, but kept the offers going until just a few months before. When UC had been undercut by several of Faroe’s bids to clients, the offers had stopped. 

Toreth, using his Administration files, had connected Hunt to one Tony Chaffee, a former security staff member of UC, who had been investigated by Justice for alleged sab activities, though they were unable to find enough evidence to charge and indict him. It was only a matter of running his C & P, to trace Chaffee to a one of the areas still sitting in post-warlike conditions with faded signs warning of contamination from the American dirty bombs. Queen’s analysis corroborated this as a possible location, citing the absolute lack of any background noise in the recording.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
This endeavor reminded Toreth suspiciously of the long-ago Kenward kidnapping. He was currently in one of several squads of security guards. It looked like Queen had called in every available SimTech personnel for the endeavor. They had the building, on the seamy outskirts of New London, surrounded, with several squads entering from the basement and another through the main floor doors, all armed to the teeth with hand weapons, long-range rifles, and low-light intensifiers, which they shared with Toreth. 

He remembered how Warrick had mumbled some stupidity about joining them for exactly six seconds before being shut down by Queen. Toreth admired her ability to say several quiet words about the insurers, her job, and Warrick’s inexperience before the man shut his mouth with a click. He had let them know that he would be on the outer fringes of the area in a secure car, and would come in the minute they’d secured his sister. After a brief staring contest, Queen had nodded, leaving two of her best staff with him.

They were directly across from the building which had scanned positive for two heated bodies. There was a vehicle just a quarter of a mile away, and Toreth knew they had found the right place. Following the extraction plan Queen and Lipore had devised, they were soon in the corridor immediately outside of the room. They were just about to confirm all of the positions, when a scuffle could be heard in the room, and a muffled “Bitch!” shouted just as a gun went off. 

Catching Queen’s eye, Toreth mouthed, “One—two—three!” and they burst into the room, just as another shot run out, Dillian screamed, and Toreth plowed into the bulk of Chaffee. Instinctively, he leapt up and his forearm went around the other’s throat. 

As Toreth landed lightly back on the floor, he pulled Chaffee backwards, causing the man’s back to arch dangerously. His foot slipped on something and he almost lost his balance, leaning back precariously, which cause Chaffee’s feet to slide out in front of him. The man’s mass made a thudding sound as it landed, and Toreth immediately turned him on his stomach, and brought his arm up high behind his back, motioning for cuffs, which one of the SimTech guards snapped on at once. It turned out the second shot had coincided with a roundhouse kick from Dillian, and the bullet had nicked an artery in his groin. The man was lying in a slowly growing pool of his own blood. Toreth motioned to one of the guards to staunch the flow.

Within minutes, the room was secured, and Warrick and Kishawi had arrived. Kishawi, who’d had some medical training and tended to the wound where the bullet had grazed Dillian’s shoulder, said that she was just in shock and demanded they bring the car around to take her to Casualty.

Warrick walked over to the chair. It still had the ropes that had bound Dillian’s legs during her first few hours there. He stood there, silently gazing at it. As the guards shuffled Chaffee past, the massive man said, “Look, man, it was just business, nothing personal, I—” 

Warrick swung and punched Chaffee in the mouth. The big man sagged, almost toppling the four burly men holding him, before they pushed him out of the door. Warrick just stood there, still silent, shaking his hand ruefully.

Justice starting swarming over the building in less than an hour. Toreth, Queen, Lipore, and Warrick gave preliminary statements, and were soon in their separate cars, heading back to New London.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
“She said that she’ll be released in a couple of days, she’s just really stiff and has a small concussion from bumping her head when he first drugged her.” Warrick said, his voice taut with exhaustion. He’d just come in from seeing Dilly in the hospital. “She said that after she had some real food, she felt almost as ‘good as new.’

“Good,” Toreth said, not because he cared, but because it seemed to be what Warrick was waiting for. Warrick had actually been magnificent through the whole ordeal, organizing the data flow, helping Toreth coordinate Lipore’s and Queen’s teams, searching out the tedious details that Toreth would normally assign to Sara or a junior investigator. 

And during the whole situation, Toreth couldn’t help but notice that the tenser Warrick became, the more irresistible were the muscles twitching under pale skin, the hair-trigger physical reactions, the rapid breathing. It was almost like the signs of arousal. The atmosphere of anxiety and desperation was so tempting it made Toreth’s teeth ache.

But Warrick walked over to the window, his shoulders knotted and tight. Toreth came up behind him and put his hands on those shoulders, only to have Warrick shudder and step aside. He turned quickly and his eyes were wide and staring, while his pupils were contracted to little pinpricks.

Toreth recognized that look. It was the expression on the face of a resister right before he tried something exceptionally stupid. Usually it was something like trying to escape during an arrest or even worse. Like during interrogation, a resister choosing to fling himself onto the biggest guard in the room in the hope that in that one instant of surprise, the guard would react instinctively and kill the resister. It never worked, but the look was serious.

Toreth lowered his voice, as if he was talking to a wild animal. “Warrick.”

“I could have lost her, Toreth!”

Toreth didn’t know what to say. This was one of those instances when Sara, Warrick—hell, even Valeria or Carnac would know what to do (even if Carnac had to fake it). Toreth, however, had no natural frame of behaviors to draw on in this situation.

“That bastard almost took her from me.” The anger in Warrick’s was palpable and his whole torso tensed as he balled his fists so tight his hands were bloodless. “He could have killed her!”

“But he didn’t,” Toreth said, “We stopped him.”

Warrick shook his head blindly.

“Warrick, look at me, Look…at…me.” Toreth seized the other man’s chin, trying to bring his eyes up. 

Warrick struggled, jerking his head in a vain attempt to free it from Toreth’s grasp. 

“Stop it, Warrick! Think! He couldn’t even keep her for the length of his own deadline. Dilly can now sleep safely because you were ready to do whatever was necessary to someone who would do her harm. _You_ stopped him. _You_ fought him and _you_ won.”

Warrick turned those pin prick eyes on Toreth, their glow deep set as if at the back of a long tunnel. Toreth shivered and asked the only question that had the remotest chance of bringing Warrick back: “How about a victory fuck? You know, it’s a shame we left the scene of the crime, it would have been epic: Sex in the Blood of Our Enemies!”

Warrick chuckled softly, but his eyes cleared and his irises widened. “Any other time, while I might have to have been talked into it, I won’t say I wouldn’t have been game. However, I’m knackered, and the only thing I want right now is Sleep in the Sheets of Our Bed.”

Toreth laughed, too, not even trying to decipher that first sentence. He could wait, too. 

As Warrick passed, Toreth gave those beautiful buttocks a sharp rap as they went by, eliciting a small hum, but things didn’t sound really promising. 

Ah well… He could wait, until the morning, at least.


End file.
